


vow not to forget me.

by sam_roulette



Series: Prompt Fills + AU Drabbles [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dreams vs. Reality, F/M, Memory Alteration, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:13:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26723446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sam_roulette/pseuds/sam_roulette
Summary: (Prompt: TimSasha, angst. A lamp, a fountain, and a map.)“You’re spiraling,” Jon deadpanned.Tim frowned, “I’m not spiraling.”“He’s just nervous,” Martin patted Tim’s shoulder sympathetically, shooting a little look at Jon. Tim made a mental note to tell Sasha to double down on the “make sure Martin gets the bouquet” plan they’d been cooking up. “The man’s getting married! Cut him some slack!”
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: Prompt Fills + AU Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944931
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24





	vow not to forget me.

**Author's Note:**

> Our prompt was Timsasha angst, with the following items: a lamp, a fountain, and a map. It was fun! It was fun to write this. You know why :)

“My hair looks fine, right?”

“I think the zipper here is getting caught…” 

“I can!!! Take those off your hands if you need help-” 

“Good Lord, Tim,” Jon said, exasperated, “you’re going to pass out at the altar.”

Tim’s hands fluttered uncertainly in the air in front of him for a moment before he brought them closer to his chest, sheepish. “Don’t think I could fall asleep if the Queen herself commanded it at this point,”

“What’s the Queen got to do with it?” Martin pondered, setting down the last box of tiny decorative lamps. “Seems like she’d have better things to worry about,”

“I don’t know, it just,” Tim gestured somewhat helplessly, “came to mind? You know, commands and orders and whatever are monarchial bull but maybe the shock of seeing some random royal away from a guillotine will do- something,”

“You’re spiraling,” Jon deadpanned.

Tim frowned, “I’m not spiraling.”

“He’s just nervous,” Martin patted Tim’s shoulder sympathetically, shooting a little look at Jon. Tim made a mental note to tell Sasha to double down on the “make sure Martin gets the bouquet” plan they’d been cooking up. “The man’s getting married! Cut him some slack!”

“I will do no such thing.” Jon said, “He’s still in the way,” But Tim could see that he was fighting down a smile. Jon was a lot easier to read than he thought he was, and honestly, if he’d really been as stoic as he tried to pretend to be, Tim might not have made him his best man. But it was plain to see that Jon was happy, and the feeling was infectious.

The lamps had been Sasha’s idea. She and Tim had wandered around the garden all those months ago in the precious first planning stages and found that there was nowhere to feasibly hang the fairy lights he’d thought about putting up for the reception. It’d been a bit of a disappointment, but Sasha came through as always; he wasn’t even sure where she’d managed to find so many little vintage-looking electrical lamps, but they were a marvel, settled on top of the dark tablecloths. 

Martin was doing a remarkable job of setting up, of course, but Tim just couldn’t find it in himself to sit _still._

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t need my help?” Tim asked instead, watching Martin continue to set up.

Martin sighed from where he’d been unloading the lamps, gesturing with a faux rustic-gold ornament. “No, Tim, we do not need help- and you shouldn’t be helping!” 

“All you need to do is go and look pretty,” Jon said, “Shouldn’t be hard for you,”

“Oh, Jon,” Tim mock-gasped, “you think I’m pretty,”

Jon rolled his eyes, “Pretty annoying, yes,” 

“But. Still pretty, right-?” 

“You look very pretty, now _please_ go check on the altar,” Martin cut in quickly, a few notes of red dusting his cheeks after he realized how quickly he’d cut in. Tim grinned. He couldn’t help teasing Martin, when it was just so Easy with a capital E to get him rankled. “P-Please.” Martin added again, belatedly.

“Aye aye,” Tim said, giving a little salute, unable to keep his smile from widening. It was a little soothing, seeing that these two were the same as ever. Definitely helped with the jitters. 

“Ah- don’t forget the map,” Martin said, almost offhanded as he pressed the little square of folded paper into Tim’s hands.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim said, “See you there!” 

Tim waved as he disappeared into the little hedge maze of greenery, hoping his cheeks would be alright after today. He still couldn’t stop smiling, God- and sure, it was just the best day of his life which was going to be shared with quite literally the best human being on earth for the rest of their natural-born lives. It was just this life-changing emotional event. But Tim could play it cool. Save all that energy for the hours of revelry or, better yet, the vows.

Even in the relative quiet of the garden, he couldn’t help it. Leaving the sounds of Jon and Martin’s good-natured bickering behind, Tim’s thoughts were just as loud as ever, and the only thing on his mind (always, always) was _Sasha, Sasha, Sasha._

Sasha was walking down that aisle in a little less than an hour. God, Tim could feel his heart threatening to leap out of his chest at the thought- abort mission, life’s too damn perfect and happiness meters are so high the whole thing’s going nuclear. Tim was turning left at every hedge with his brain fluffing up like clouds and he, genuinely, didn’t know how anything could top this.

Tim was so in love that it physically ached. He was sure that was just the nerves- it’d felt like an eternity since he’d seen his Sasha at this point!- but the squeeze of his heart in his chest was so profound that for a moment, he needed to pause. Beside him, a wall of pink mandevilla vines towered up, smelling sweet and lovely in the June air.

 _Wait,_ Tim suddenly thought, _Why do I have a map?_

Tim slowed to a stop in front of the flowers, eyebrows furrowing. It’d seemed so normal in the moment that he hadn’t really thought about it, but it was odd that Martin had given him a map, right? Like, that was a weird thing to be given. The garden wasn’t really all that complicated to go through. He just had to…

Hm. He’d thought the venue owner said nothing would be in bloom until that evening.

… 

Tim shook his head, frowning to himself. Maybe this had been getting to him more than he’d thought- the nerves, the anticipation of seeing Sasha walk up the aisle, looking like he’d never seen her before… He wished he’d taken a little peek before when he’d had the chance, if only to assuage his nerves. Just the tiniest little peek, long after Sasha had laughed in that beautiful way of hers and kissed him on the lips and said to be patient. Maybe then he’d have room to remember the map. 

He unfolded the thing to see what he’d forgotten in the initial daze of premarital bliss. Made sense to, right about then, when he was pretty sure he was in a part of the garden that he hadn’t been in before. The last thing Tim needed was to be late for his own wedding- even if it’d be funny later on, Sasha would never let him live it down! 

Maybe that cheerful thought was why it took him a moment to recognize it to be a map of the Archives. 

… 

… Alrighty then!

Well, mix-ups happened to the best of people. Martin really had been doing a lot to make sure the reception was being set up, so it made sense that maybe he just mixed up the maps somehow. The garden map probably would have looked newer than this old thing anyway- something far different from the rough, rusty lines, looking like the hurried work of someone trying not to be caught…

Tim was just glad he almost certainly had time to make it to the altar. The garden wasn’t very big, even if he was standing by a wall of thoughtlessness, so he’d probably loop his way back around eventually. Gave him time to think, in the end. More time to rehearse his vows. 

The flowers by his side swayed lightly in the summer breeze as Tim stood, adjusting his cufflinks and thinking.

“Really Tim,” Jon muttered, even more exasperated than before. That was Tim’s fault, probably- wasn’t a good idea to be pissing off your best man. What was that old trivia fact he’d heard? Something about best men being there to act as bait in case of evil? That was a high enough price for Tim to forgive a little ~~stalking~~ following. 

“Sorry, sorry!” Tim said, smiling sheepishly. “I was just- y’know, thinking of the vows,” Which, of course, had to be perfect, because Sasha was going to be perfect and he just knew he couldn’t mess this up.

(Was it weird that maybe he was still trying to parse out whether Persephone or Proserpina would be a more thematic mention? Perhaps, but Greek versus Roman had such different vibes. Tim wasn’t sure about likening himself to Hades or Pluton. Maybe Janus was an option-)

He wasn’t moving because he was apprehensive. He wasn’t moving because he was in love. There was a difference.

Jon understood. Jon was watching him, after all.

“She’ll be walking in _five minutes,”_ Jon hissed out, harried. 

“We better get on out there, right?” Tim asked, smiling.

The grip he suddenly had on Tim’s arm was a vice, filled with strength that Tim wouldn’t have expected from the scrawny stick of a man. He’d been so harried lately (about the wedding of course) that Tim was honestly surprised he apparently had the time to keep his strength up. 

The brush of pink flowers as they walked directly through the vines barely registered to Tim, who was just so happy that it was finally _happening._ Here and now, in the garden, surrounded by everyone they loved, he was going to marry the love of his life. (And underneath were others that they loved who couldn’t make it.) Why else was it so hard to breathe but for the anticipation?

The altar was neatly set up, dwarfed by the massive fountain at the garden’s center, rising so high into the air that it felt like something from a fairytale. Atop a stone pedestal sat a tall woman, holding in one hand a simple horn to her ear and in the other, a glassless mirror. The water flowed from the horn and from her fingertips around the mirror and from around her waist, gently sloping into the basin below with crystal clarity and pooling around her stone feet. It had been the feature that sold Tim on the place immediately.

The fountain woman had no face. Tim had tried, before, to find the angle that would let him take a peek at the “hand mirror” she held before herself, trying to find a way to see her face and complete the impression of the art piece, but he never could get a clear shot. 

For a moment, Tim toyed with the idea of asking Jon, who was fidgeting by his side and making a bit more of a fuss about the whole wedding, to help him see if the fountain’s face was inside the mirror. 

Then, he wasn’t thinking much of anything. Sasha was here. It was starting.

Tim held his breath as from the other end of the aisle, Martin gently held aside the curtain of willow vines and gestured the bride forward. Sasha stepped delicately through, raising her ivory skirt just enough to keep from tripping over the fabric before she smoothed it down. 

Tim’s heart stopped dead in his chest, and oh, she was _radiant._ Even with the pearly opaque veil covering her features, she was a vision, standing taller than he had ever seen her in a dress that swooped low on her brown shoulders and trailed out behind her. The sleeves were embroidered with flowers, reminding Tim of the summer clematis Jon had dragged him through, and her curls were pinned up in an elaborate coif dotted with pearls. 

Tim only wished that night would come sooner, so the sky could gaze at her and weep for jealousy- no amount of stars or galaxies could compare. Even through the gloves that slipped into Tim’s hands, Sasha’s hands were warm, and he could feel her smile. 

Tim loved her so terribly that it just might kill him.

“You’re beautiful,” Tim breathed, ignoring the preacher’s beginning statements.

Sasha huffed out a little laugh, voice so bright it bathed them in sunlight, “You haven’t even seen what’s under the veil,”

“I don’t need to,” Tim said, feeling happy tears prick at his eyes. He just barely avoided biting his lip, trying to suppress them. He at least wanted to start crying after they’d declared their undying love for each other. If he started now, he might not have been able to stop.

“I love you,” Sasha breathed.

Tim’s heart was beating for the love of it. “I love you too- always will,” With trembling fingers, Tim slowly lifted the veil so he could see her face. The fabric moved fluidly with the motion and, fully exposed to the light of day, Tim saw…

The most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

She stood before him, full lips painted a soft petal pink and parted gently. Dark brown freckles dotted her tawny skin in constellations, all seeming to lead to the beauty mark under her left eye. And what big eyes they were, large and brown and gazing at him with such love that Tim felt faint. She was tall and picturesque, as though she’d stepped off the stone pedestal fully formed, a beacon for poets to celebrate and lovers to mourn for. 

Tim looked at her face and his heart sang, _I know you, I know you, I know you._

Tim whispered, “You’re not Sasha.”

The woman looked at him in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. Those full lips took on a worried twist. “Tim…? That’s,” She smiled a bit, shaking her head, “Come on now- of course I am! Don’t tell me you forgot your beautiful bride already?”

This woman was beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful woman that Tim had ever seen and a dream come true put in a form able to stand in front of him. He looked at her and was overwhelmed with how much he wanted to take her face in his hands and hold it there, close to him. He asked, louder, “Who are you?” and his brain was spinning on its axis, falling out of orbit. 

_Why isn’t she here?_

_What did she do to Sasha?_

The woman’s smile was fading. “I’m… I’m Sasha. Tim, we- I’m really Sasha. Are you…?” She was reaching her hand out.

“Where is she?” Tim asked, taking a shaking step back. There were murmurs from the crowd of onlookers, but he couldn’t make out their faces like this, not out the corner of his eye. He might have been able to remember their faces if he or Sasha had any family left alive. “Where is she?” 

“I’m right here,” Sasha said, eyes widening. She was pretty- so damn pretty that it made Tim’s chest ache like he should know this like this is irrational or a trick or-

This was a trick. It had to be. 

Taking another shaky step back, Tim nearly tripped over himself as he looked out toward the crowd of onlookers, calling out, “Sasha! Sasha, this was- it was a funny joke. Come on, I know you- you wouldn’t just,” His throat caught on _leave me._

“Tim, please,” The imposter said, reaching a hand out to him, “This _really_ isn’t funny. You know me!”

“No,” Tim said faintly, “No-” He turned back toward the crowd. Jon stood in the audience and watched as Tim started rushing away from the altar, “Sasha! Where are you, Sash? Come on, it’s- you’re here, right?!”

“I am! I’m right in front of you!” Sasha cried desperately, rushing after him and taking him by the shoulders. Her hands were so warm against his shoulders. The real Sasha was always cold. “Tim, please. Look at me.”

(Sometimes in more ways than one- was he really so surprised to have been left at the altar?)

(He wasn’t moving because he was _in love._ He wasn’t moving _because_ he was in love.)

The woman asked him, “What do you see?”

Tim slowly turned to face her, searching. She looked at him so earnestly, so desperately that it made him want to believe. Could someone lying look so close to genuine tears? Could someone lying have that much power in her voice, the much fear?

Could Sasha have any of those things? The Sasha he knew?

(He knew the answer.)

“I don’t know,” Tim said. The woman recoiled as though it were a physical blow, her hands jerking away.

“But…” The woman whispered, voice high and reedy, “I thought I was unforgettable?”

There was something to that. Something familiar. Something-

The world winked out.

Tim awoke in darkness, tears streaming down his face that he didn’t understand. The face of the woman in the dream who claimed to be Sasha but wasn’t was already retreating into the black, disappearing before the first of the tears cluttering along her lower lashes could fall.

And as Tim looked up at the ceiling, more awake than he’d felt since Prentiss, he wondered what had brought this all on, bewildered and feeling even more bewildered when his chest still ached.

He had fallen out of love with Sasha James months ago.

For a moment, Tim peered up at his ceiling and waited for the remnants of tears to dry. For a moment he considered getting up and starting the day early, or at least finding something to eat. In the end, though, he didn’t want to deal with the thought of having to go to the institute later or dealing with Jon outside the window, watching. Always watching.

Tim rolled back over and closed his eyes. He could stand to stay in bed for a bit longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Give us a shout at sam-roulette.tumblr.com if you have a prompt you want filled or to just have a little look-see at what we're up to!


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